


Beli Noshti

by Pomiar



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Bear and the Nightingale inspired, Domovoy, M/M, No one sang "Let it go" though, Qui-Gon is Morozko (The Lord of Winter), Rusalki, Slavic mythology, fairytale AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26233957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pomiar/pseuds/Pomiar
Summary: “Clear eyes and rosy lips,” He spoke softly, his touch - like cold water from a spring. “Am I to be bought with beauty?”Obi-Wan stilled. Didn’t dare move, even if such touch was impertinent. All the legends coming back to him. Whispered warnings and restrained sighs for the Lord of Winter – Morozko. The good and the bad – the girl bathed in gold and her sister thrown in the cold river. All the missing children and all the muttered curses.Obi-Wan tries to bargain with the Lord of Winter.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 122





	Beli Noshti

**Author's Note:**

  * For [acatbyanyothername](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acatbyanyothername/gifts).



> I want to thank [Chibiobiwan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibiobiwan/pseuds/Chibiobiwan), [Tess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessiete/pseuds/tessiete), [Dayne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDisdayne/pseuds/LadyDisdayne) aaaaaand [Scruffy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaRex/pseuds/TeaRex) as they listened to me whine and morn my life throughout writing this!  
> HAPPY LATE B-DAY [CAT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acatbyanyothername/pseuds/acatbyanyothername), I love you so very much!!!!

  


The thin hand sneaked from the flames and grabbed the offered piece of bread in its tiny blackened fingers. Obi-Wan startled and pressed his cheek to his mother’s skirt. She noticed, even if he didn’t want her to and carded her fingers through his hair.

_“Slunce?”_

Obi-Wan turned to her and was met with the curious stare of his sister, her big eyes glowing in the skipping light of the fire as she rested in their mother’s embrace. Obi-Wan felt foolish and with bruised pride addressed his mother.

“It’s nothing,” he said with his best steady voice and stood up from the warm ground in front of the oven. He was eight now, far too big to huddle in his mother’s lap and the mere thought made his ears redden. He was the oldest child, he had to act the part. Throwing a last look at the flames he excused himself and soon enough, with childish delight, forgot about the missing piece of bread.

The winter that year gripped the village in her tight clutches, stilling life into place and once the snow reached his own height, Obi-Wan’s world was restricted to the walls of the house. It wasn’t long though, before the cold creeped through the doorway of even their household and restless, his mother, despite his protest, had ushered him to sleep with her and his sister on top of the oven.

Unfamiliar with the noises of the kitchen, even the warmth of his bed couldn’t lull Obi-Wan to sleep that first night. He tried to reign his nervousness in, but the fears were pulling him by the ankles, so despite the rigid cold he quietly slipped away from the embrace of his mother and as his feet hit the creaking wooden planks, he just listened. Obi-Wan was grown up now, he had to protect his mother and sister and he better face whatever it was straight on than cower in the arms of his parents.

The room looked empty from what the dying embers in the oven revealed. The wind outside was howling, making the wooden roof creak in submission. Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief but refused to go back to sleep, so instead sat in front of the oven, intent on guarding his family’s dreams as they slumbered.

He had been dozing for a while when he heard the muttering and at first thought it remnants of his dreams but soon enough realisation brought fear and he fully awoke.

Two huge round eyes were staring at him and Obi-Wan, only by some miracle, managed not to scream and wake his mother and sister as he clasped his hands over his mouth and scrambled backwards.

The creature harrumphed and completely ignored the scared child as it passed him by and grabbed hungrily at the plate left on the ground. Happy with its prey, the small thing sat up and started devouring the bread.

It vaguely resembled a small man with a very sharp nose and huge eyes, its ears sticking funnily from the tuffs of cloud grey hair. Curiosity battled with fear but as the former won, Obi-Wan scurried quietly over to the creature and sat next to it, patiently waiting.

The creature ate the bread slowly, clearly enjoying it as it licked the crumbs from its fingers and finally registered Obi-Wan’s presence.

“I have no bad news to bring, young Gosudar.” Its voice was hoarse and quiet.

“You are?” Obi-Wan’s curiosity finally spilled over with childish indifference to the ominous statement.

The creature, if possible, looked wounded and quickly stood up from his place and turned towards Obi-Wan, its nose barely reaching the child's chin. “How rude, Obi-Wan Kenobi!” The name startled him, but the small creature wasn’t finished. “For whom do you think your cook leaves the bread? I am no thief!” It huffed clearly mad.

“Wait,” Obi-Wan stood as well and now positively towered over the creature so he leaned down to get a better look at it. “It’s you then,” he said, an unbidden smile in the cold winter morning made its way on the boy’s face. “The _domovoy_.”

The creature made an elegant bow, its nose almost touching the ground. “At your service, young Master.”

Obi-Wan wouldn’t admit it but relief crashed over him, washing away the last remnants of his doubt. The creature was their _domovoy_ not a _talasum_ from the night, here to snatch his sister away.

The _domovoy_ being their house guardians from the women’s tales at the market. The cook, per tradition, fed the little creature every night, to which Obi-Wan’s father always hummed in slight disagreement that she was probably feeding the rats. The old woman would murmur at him, wagging her old crooked finger, talking about ill omens to befall this household should they not respect the little spirit. But seeing him smile, she’d laugh alongside him. It was said the creature could predict the future of the family, so Obi-Wan’s ears perked as the _domovoy_ headed for the old table in the center of the room.

“You know the future?” Obi-Wan asked gleefully as the _domovoy_ sighed and jumped, grabbing the seating of a chair and swinging its legs onto it. “Yes, young Master.” It spoke from the chair as it tried to climb onto the table.

“Do I become the boyar then?” Obi-Wan asked hopefully, politely helping the little creature onto the wooden surface.

“Not so far,” the _domovoy_ huffed and found the plate of honey cakes Cook had left for breakfast. “I cannot look so far.” It explained, exasperated.

Obi-Wan sulked a bit, squashing his disappointment as the little creature raised the cloth that covered the plate and picked a cake. With growing disapproval, he watched as the _domovoy_ hungrily stuffed the food in his mouth.

“You said you are not a thief!” The child admonished, freezing the creature in place, with its cheeks comically round. It chewed noisily and pointed its little finger at Obi-Wan accusingly, for once – taller than the human. “You asked me a question.”

“You hardly answered,” Obi-Wan retorted but the creature spun on one leg and turned its back to Obi-Wan. “Nice to make your acquaintance, Little Gosudar, but it’s time for me to go.”

“Wait,” Obi-Wan stopped it in its tracks. “Answer me this then,” he added and grabbed a second cake from the plate, the _domovoy_ tracking the sweet like the hunter dogs would a bone. “How come you don’t speak with Cook? She leaves you all that food.”

“She can’t see me, obviously.” The creature huffed, affronted, its little ears bobbing with the wild movements of its head as he jumped back on the ground.

“Do you hide from her?” Obi-Wan felt his confusion grow.

“No, I just—” The _domovoy_ startled and then with a screech, Obi-Wan thought would wake the household, it backed away from him. “You can see me!”

“Well of course I can,” Obi-Wan fought the urge to rest his hands on his hips the way his mother would when they did not listen to her.

“No, you don’t understand! You _can_ see me!” The _domovoy’s_ horror somehow transformed into elation and joy lit its huge eyes.

“I shouldn’t?” Realisation struck Obi-Wan and the fear of the horrors of the night suddenly seemed insignificant in its stead. “What do I do?”

“Nothing!” The creature grabbed Obi-Wan’s pants and pulled. “You mustn’t tell his Lordship!”

“Obi-Wan?”

Both of them startled at the sleepy inquiry from his mother and as Obi-Wan turned and replied, “I needed to go, Mother,” the _domovoy_ used the opportunity to scurry away back in the dying flames of the oven.

“Come back, _Slunce_. It’s not warm without you here.” Obi-Wan’s mother murmured half-asleep.

Obi-Wan looked around the now empty room and with a heavy heart headed back to his bed.

From that winter on Obi-Wan always made sure to leave more bread on the plate, but it was far from the last time he saw the creature. The _domovoy_ , now that it knew someone could see him, would often surprise Obi-Wan, when alone and demand his company. Obi-Wan had a suspicion that the _domovoy_ would on purpose make the house creek or a door slam so he could chase the Cook murmuring out of the kitchen and have the company of the child all to itself. Obi-Wan didn’t mind, there were not many children around and the winter was long and tedious.

As Obi-Wan didn’t at that time understand why he should keep quiet about the house spirit, he didn’t worry about being caught in the _domovoy’s_ company but all that earned him were the curious stares the Cook would throw him as she caught him laughing near the fire or the disapproving scowl of his father as he ran through the halls hot on the heels of the little _domovoy_.

It all came crashing down that spring as the sun melted the winter’s shackles and the outside grew kind again. No one saw when but Obi-Wan’s sister – little Padme – vanished overnight. All the men in the village and the boyar’s lands gathered together and formed search parties but with every hour Padme was still missing, Obi-Wan’s mom got more and more desperate and her face -- paler and paler. Obi-Wan could barely stand it, even if just nine, all sorts of horrors fought for his attention. If the _domovoy_ was real, surely so were _Chernobog_ , the _Leshy,_ and the _talasums_ from the tales. Who knows what had lured Padme away from the family?

“It’s the Lord of Winter, I reckon,” the women that had come to help his mother were whispering. “Morozko snatched the child.”

It got unbearable, and Obi-Wan, unable to stop found himself pacing.

“No,” his mother uttered quietly. “Please, Obi-Wan I want-- no, I need to see you.” Obi-Wan rooted himself on the spot. His mother’s weak plea startling him out of his stupor. A wave of pure anguish assaulted him. There had to be something he could do!

That night as his mother finally succumbed to restless slumber, Obi-Wan sneaked to the kitchen and started a little fire in the oven.

“ _Domovoy_?” He called quietly, too afraid of waking the cook as everyone in the household was nervous right now. “Can you hear me, oh Master of the Oven?” Obi-Wan used the name the _domovoy_ had given himself to sweeten the deal and after that didn’t work as well, sighed, and unloaded his untouched dinner, which he had sneaked as everyone had been too distracted.

The thin hand almost immediately snatched the chicken leg from the weak flames.

“Terrible thing, little Lord.”

“You know then?” Hope rose in Obi-Wan’s chest.

“Naturally! I know everything about your family,” huffed the _domovoy_ , distracted with crunching the bones with his sharp teeth.

“Where is she then? Padme?” Obi-Wan was barely holding on not to shake the little creature by its thin shoulders.

“Why in the forest of course. In the lake’s eye.” The _domovoy_ munched happily.

Obi-Wan felt the dread lodge itself in his chest sneaking ice cold up his throat as he asked weakly, “In the lake?”

The fire cracked startling the child but the creature paid him no mind, too absorbed in its food.

“Save her then!” Obi-Wan demanded desperately.

The _domovoy_ finally tore its eyes from the food and really looked at the child in front of the fire. “Why so upset, Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

“My sister is out there somewhere, I have to find her!” Obi-Wan demanded feeling tears prickle in his eyes.

The creature neared him slowly. “You humans are a weird breed.” It said as a tear fell from Obi-Wan’s cheek. The _domovoy_ caught it suddenly, so fast Obi-Wan did not see the movement and encircled it in its palms. “I cannot leave this house, little Lord, but I can show you the way.”

Obi-Wan felt cold determination drown his fears and nodded at the _domovoy_ as he wiped his face. “Alright.”

The house spirit clapped once and turned to the fire, where it bent and picked a big ember. It threw it to the child that caught it reflexively – surprisingly the ember was cold. “Into the forest you must go. The smoke from this ember will show you the way.” And indeed a thin trail of thick grey smoke was rising from it already, heading for the back door.

Obi-Wan muttered a hurried “thank you” and threw himself outside into the night.

  


Obi-Wan loved the forest around his house. He had practically grown in the branches of the oaks and on the rug of pine needles on the ground.

He never thought the forest a dangerous place. But he had also never wandered in it so late at night. At first, he had dived in the thorny blackness – his only thought to find his sister, only seeing the trail of smoke before him, but as he had tired and slowed down the forest had closed in on him and he had the horrible feeling someone was watching him. With the unfamiliar sounds and his only light – the little ember, Obi-Wan suppressed a shiver. And still with his head held high, he kept on going. His sister needed him.

It felt like hours. Obi-Wan had tired long ago, but he would not stop. He had an inkling that if he stopped he wouldn’t be able to keep going and was afraid the magic of the _domovoy_ won’t last forever. It was getting cold. Here, the snow had not yet surrendered its final frontier and still covered the ground. Finally, at the end of the crooked trail, he had been following, the trees separated into a wide clearing. Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief as he had felt as if the trees would jump on him at any moment. His relief was short-lived though as the smoke plummeted towards the center of the clearing into the deep darkness of a frozen lake. Obi-Wan had almost missed it the first time, but now, as he neared it, he could make out its shiny surface as the light danced on it. The rim of the lake was frosted, the water -- free of the icy shackles in the middle making it look like a giant eye, Obi-Wan thought and a shiver passed through him.

Obi-Wan stopped at the very edge, too afraid to peer into the hole. “Padme?” he unwisely called out into the night despite his fear. “Padme, are you here?”

Nothing, only his cry ricocheted in the branches.

Obi-Wan wouldn’t give up so easily and with a determined tilt of his chin, he sat on the ground, ready to take off his boots.

“Child of man?”

Obi-Wan screamed and scuttled back, but there was nowhere to hide. “Who’s there?” He tried for bravery as his voice shook. He looked around but there was no one in the darkness.

Someone laughed and it spun around the child so Obi-Wan had no idea where it came from.

“Please,” he uttered. “I need to find my sister.”

“A sister?” The voice asked blankly.

“Has anyone been here?” Obi-Wan tried again.

The wind picked up and the trees began to whisper in between themselves. The voice didn’t answer and just as Obi-Wan was beginning to think it never will, it joined the song of the forest.

“I have a friend now.”

Obi-Wan startled. “So someone is here?” He asked, looking around frantically. It was cold and dark – his sister must be scared witless by now.

“Come and see for yourself,” the voice said and it almost sounded delighted. “Come and see in the lake,” it beckoned and Obi-Wan followed it.

He carefully inched his way onto the frozen surface and peered into the icy waters.

A scream ripped from his chest.

Floating deeper in the water, completely listless, Padme looked like she was sleeping. Her hair trailed like a heavy veil around her pale face. Obi-Wan didn’t think much and before he realised he was fighting with the icy water as his clothes pulled him down.

“No!” The voice demanded and something pulled the struggling child back onto the surface. It happened so fast, Obi-Wan was left breathless, confused, and staring at the clear sky above him as he laid shivering on the ground.

Above him a vision had come to life, he thought confused. A beautiful woman with long, heavy hair and a sharp set of teeth gleaming in the starlight, was looking at him worriedly. Her eyes – he could not tell the colour of, but in the dark, they were inky black as the depths of the lake.

“Wha--“Obi-Wan struggled for breath. “Who are you?” he asked the vision.

The woman startled as he locked eyes with her and scrambled inelegantly backwards, landing on her backside in her shock.

They held stares for a while, both on the ground shocked into silence.

“You see me?”

Obi-Wan stood up, the cold setting and the shivering rattling his teeth. “O-Of course,” he grumbled and tried to head back to his sister.

“No!” The woman, fast as a preying bird, caught his leg in her hands. Fingers long and somehow fused together like the feet of a duckling. “She’s sleeping!”

“She’s dying!” Obi-Wan protested and at that, the woman let go. Obi-Wan almost toppled to the ground. He turned to look at the creature – for she was no woman at all, and found shock reflected in her black eyes.

“What do you mean, child of man?” 

“She can’t breathe! It’s cold!” Obi-Wan remarked horrified.

“She heard me,” the spirit sounded almost petulant. No, Obi-Wan realised as he gazed into her eyes. The upturned line of her mouth, the unsure twitch of the eyebrows spoke of something else. She had slumped in defeat as if the dawning truth was crushing her. “She came to me,” the creature half-whispered.

“You wanted a friend?” Obi-Wan ventured, making his way to her as if her teeth could not tear him to shreds and her eyes spoke of the deep waters a human should never cross.

“She is my friend,” the creature repeated weakly, the conviction of her words lost now.

Obi-Wan carefully raised his arm in greeting. “I’ll be your friend.” His outstretched hand hanging in the air between them. “I can see you,” the kid prompted. “Let my sister go, please and I’ll be your friend. A better one.”

The creature looked into his eyes this time and Obi-Wan wondered what she saw, but clumsily twined her hand with his and he shook it enthusiastically, startling his new friend.

“Swear to me, child of man. Swear, you will not forget me. Tell me your name.” She gripped his hand tighter.

Obi-Wan hesitated for the first time since meeting the spirit. Her words sounded powerful, like the vow his father had taken when he became the boyar of the lands and had shouldered the burden of all its people.

He nodded. “Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Alright, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” the creature said and let go. “Take your sister home.”

  


The ember took them to the edge of the forest where shivering and exhausted a group of his father’s men found them. Padme was weak and silent as they rode the horse to their house. Obi-Wan worried that the creature from the forest might have done something to her, but fell asleep in the arms of Siva the woodman as they sprinted through the night, the ember warming him up in his coat.

When he woke he was being passed into the arms of his mother that crushed him into a tight embrace. He could hear her softly crying and tried to croak an apology in her hair.

“Where did you find her, boy,” someone slapped him good-naturedly on the back and the rest murmured their approval. Obi-Wan peeked from his mother’s shoulder, and seeing his father there, gathered the courage.

“The _domovoy_ showed me,” he said quietly.

The silence was as instantaneous as it was deafening, all the cheers and remarks from the search party dying. For the first time, not even in the forest had Obi-Wan felt as small as when all the stares of the men fell on him as if to push him down and down into the ground.

“He is tired,” His father’s voice pierced the night like a well-sharpened razor.

“Yeah,” agreed Luka the blacksmith. “Must’ve known where the little one hid in one of their games.”

“Should’ve told us,” someone laughed, and just like that it was back to the bantering and the plan for a hefty supper that day to celebrate.

Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief, but feeling his skin prickle, turned around and met Siva’s stare.

The man was frowning at him.

  


That look stayed with Obi-Wan so he learned to keep his curious ability a secret. His father had only strengthened that belief by warning him never to talk about that again.

“People want their truth spoken, Obi-Wan,” he had said, imploring his son to understand. “Whatever else it is you know, don’t speak it.”

And Obi-Wan had understood.

That didn’t stop him from seeking his forest friend – the _rusalka_ , he had learned, one that kept no name to bind her. Obi-Wan had come to respect that and surprisingly for him – they soon became fast friends, spending days upon days close to the lake.

He saw the others as well. Got used to the _bannik_ in the bathhouse with its eyes of steam and the _Poludnica_ dancing in between the scythes of the farmers in the fields. The _Leshy_ would show him the paths through the forest but would always doubt Obi-Wan’s intentions, muttering through the leaves of the oaks.

It was a quiet and exhilarating secret, but it wasn’t these spirits Obi-Wan learned to fear instead the more he grew the more he realised humans were much worse.

“Your Witcher son, Master Kenobi has no place among us,” Siva spat at the boyar’s feet, emboldened by the hunger that had gripped the village that year. He’d then turned to sixteen-year-old Obi-Wan and had spoken directly to him, “Leave now, little _veshter_.”

Obi-Wan’s father had ushered him quickly to go, his head held high but the stares of the villagers never left Obi-Wan’s nightmares.

The next ten harvests went from bad to worse. The winters -- each more fierce than the previous. Obi-Wan’s father waned and then fell ill. He never got up from the bed.

  


The forest was particularly angry, Obi-Wan thought as the branches broke under his heavy set of boots. He kept on walking regardless. His breath clogging in front of his face as he climbed over the hill. The snow crunched and snapped its teeth at him, slowing his arduous process. Obi-Wan sighed raggedly, wishing for the warmth of his house. He missed his sister’s excited chatter. Her wedding was coming up – she was to be married to another boyar’s son – one Anakin Skywalker. A gifted young man with sharp wit and a heavy right swing. Obi-Wan had liked him immediately and with a pained heart had taken his father’s place as the one to give them his blessing, deep down convinced it wasn’t nearly as worth as his father’s would have been. 

He missed his mother’s hoarse singing in front of the oven. Never truly gifted in that area, it was still the most wonderful present of his childhood and it would always take him there effortlessly.

He even missed the little _domovoy_ that still visited him in the most inappropriate of times. Once it had pulled Obi-Wan’s ankle from underneath the covers of his bed and scared the teenager witless, even now many years later Obi-Wan still felt the sting of irritation at the memory, sweetened by the little creature’s sincere apology.

Obi-Wan had learned throughout his own research of these spirits how different their two worlds were. The domovoy had no concept of nightly fears and talasumi living under the bed, ready to snatch someone in a bag. Just as Cook laughed at the notion that Chernobog will swallow the sun if he was to be disobeyed. 

Even his reason for being here in the first place had evaded the Leshy, as Obi-Wan had asked for directions.

“I do not understand,” it had creaked with its hands that resembled long oak branches – stiff and crooked. “Why would you go there? It is nothing but snow, snow, snow… sleep. Everything is asleep.” It had yawned beneath its thick beard full of little twigs and leaves, still green even in the dead of winter.

“Please,” Obi-Wan had begged, having nothing to offer to the keeper of the forest. “I need to go to the Lord of Winter.”

And the _Leshy_ had whispered it to him, the forbidden path through the forest. He had followed it with a heavy heart. And now as he crested the hill, he knew he had reached his destination. The wind had stopped, but the cold did not relent. If anything it had gotten worse and Obi-Wan’s teeth had begun to clatter. The path he had been following ended abruptly, leaving only untouched shimmering snow. The trees – tall pine trees, with trunks so thick a human could not wrap their hands around them.

Worst was the complete and utter silence. The birds had stopped chittering, the wind did not weave through the branches. It was like the stillness of the world as winter descended, but amplified as how oil would feed the ravenous flames. Obi-Wan stopped walking as disturbing this peace felt sacrilegious to him. He knew it was a bad idea. Moving had kept him warm, but as the trail stopped he could easily get lost. And there was no sign of the Lord of Winter.

In the tales, Morozko came to the young person lost in the woods and offered innumerable treasures if the hero of the story was polite. Be kind to Master Winter, the maids had often joked with Obi-Wan, if not he’ll leave you buried in the snow. 

Obi-Wan slid down a tree trunk. His back scraping the roughened bark. He huddled on the ground, hugging his legs as much as his coat allowed him. He could feel, close to his heart, the ember the domovoy had given him so long ago. He had kept it and not once or twice found his way home because of it. Right now it emitted dull warmth. Huddled as he was Obi-Wan felt it warm him at least a little bit and comforted by the thought, allowed himself to relax.

“You are a long way from home, mortal.”

Obi-Wan startled, certain that the sudden wind had spoken to him. It slammed him back against the tree as he attempted to stand. It felt like thousands of tiny frozen needles were pricking his skin. He covered his eyes, struggling to breathe as he coughed.

“You cannot go back so I give you a choice, mortal.” The wind picked up twice as hard. “A slow or fast death.” 

“No,” Obi-Wan managed to crawl on his arms, blindly following the voice. Oddly it sounded so warm in this whirlwind that was by now throwing him on all sides, pushing and pulling, cruelly playing with him. “I cannot leave yet,” he wheezed before the wind stole his voice again. Obi-Wan persisted through it and managed, “I have to speak to the Lord of Winter.”

The wind stopped.

“Oh? Why would the Lord of Winter listen to you, mortal?” Obi-Wan’s ears were ringing, but he heard the curiosity in the words even as he had doubled in on the ground, eyes tightly shut, trying to compose himself once again. He had learned that talking to spirits required manners. 

“I have come to ask for his favour.” Obi-Wan slowly rose and dusted his coat as best as he could. He opened his eyes, squinting in the light reflected by the snowy whiteness.

Nothing. There was no one.

Obi-Wan awoke to two piercing eyes staring up at him. There was ice in them, he thought dazedly then startled. The man looming above him backed away and with the motion pulled Obi-Wan by the collar upright. He was tall and fierce-looking. His long hair was swept away from a broad forehead, his brow was heavy, giving him a particularly displeased look. Ice cold eyes and a crooked nose like a fishing hook made him look both immortal and oddly enough -- human.

Obi-Wan remembered himself and bowed.

“Morozko.” He greeted.

Morozko waited for him to rise and tipped Obi-Wan’s chin with a long finger.

“Clear eyes and rosy lips,” He spoke softly, his touch - like cold water from a spring. “Am I to be bought with beauty?” 

Obi-Wan stilled. Didn’t dare move, even if such touch was impertinent. All the legends coming back to him. Whispered warnings and restrained sighs for the Lord of Winter – Morozko. The good and the bad – the girl bathed in gold and her sister thrown in the cold river. All the missing children and all the muttered curses.

“I’ve only pleas, Gosudar.” Obi-Wan said, oddly enough feeling calm despite the cold.

They stood suspended in the moment, Morozko silently observing. Obi-Wan didn’t dare move, but the fear had left him in its stead curiosity was sparked.

“What of?” The Lord of Winter spoke.

“A kinder winter, Gosudar. We cannot survive another.”

The wind chimed and Morozko appeared to be listening to it, as he tilted his head in its direction.

“How did you find this place?”

“The Forest Keeper helped me,” Obi-Wan replied.

“They send you here for death, mortal. No need to bargain for them.”

Obi-Wan thought of Siva and his family cursing his shadow and the glint in their eyes as he had left under the noble guise of saving the village. “It is your duty as the boyar young Gosudar.” The villagers had agreed.

He remembered the pain in his sister’s eyes as she had realised he won’t likely return.

“I know,” Obi-Wan replied and a smile crept its way on his face, blooming in the winter scenery like a flower in coarse soil.

Confusion clouded Morozko’s eyes. “You do not condemn them.” It wasn’t a question. “How peculiar.”

“Will it help if I had?” Obi-Wan asked and the Winter Lord laughed, startled. It echoed oddly into the stillness – a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. The branches of the nearby trees gently swayed in the rhythm of the wind that was now tame and playing with Morozko’s hair, tickling Obi-Wan’s face.

“Come,” Morozko abruptly frowned and turned, his feet sinking in the crisp snow as he braved it with ease.

Confused, but with a calm heart and still mind, Obi-Wan was determined to meet his end, so he followed into the trail left by the spirit. 

  


There was a house in the woods. The most unnatural thing in this magical forest. It stood lonely in a little clearing, surrounded by the trees and the complete silence of the place. Obi-Wan threw a questioning look at his guide, but Morozko did not acknowledge it and headed for the door.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help it – a soft gasp escaped his lips as they entered. The house might’ve looked small and shabby on the outside, but was an entire palace on the inside. A giant bed occupied half of the room they were in, in front of the fireplace a table, laden with all sorts of foods, drew Obi-Wan’s eye. There was honey and fruits as if just plucked in the middle of summer. There was bread that looked soft to the touch and heaps of butter. A jug filled with milk and one of wine tempted everyone who entered.

Obi-Wan’s stomach growled – loud and clear in the space and Morozko harrumphed, but beckoned his guest to the feast.

“Make yourself at home, it is where you’ll stay.”

Obi-Wan did not touch the food but sat on one of the beautifully carved chairs. He hoped that Morozko would join him, but he kept on looming above it.

“Why am I here?” Obi-Wan asked patiently.

“The path through the forest will not open until spring.” The winter spirit explained.

Obi-Wan’s heart flipped in his chest. “Am I your guest?” He ventured.

Morozko threw him a look and as Obi-Wan did not avert his gaze, nodded. “You are. The food will not poison you.” With that, he turned around and left the door closing firmly behind him.

  


  


His host was a peculiar one and throughout the days Obi-Wan’s curiosity grew and his fear of him waned. Morozko came and went in the house whenever he pleased with no thought of his guest. On one particular night he had even stormed as Obi-Wan was already in bed, banged the door open, and stood there as if he had forgotten that mortal men required sleep. With a stiff and formal bow as an apology, he had hurriedly left leaving a very amused Obi-Wan to wonder about whether Morozko himself ever slept. In fact, it didn’t take long for Obi-Wan to suss out the reason for these visits – The Lord of Winter was checking up on him as if he was an unruly child prone to breaking dishes. Obi-Wan had also learned to let it go – Morozko, he reasoned, had to be suspicious of the intentions of his guests as in the stories they usually had ulterior motives for their visit. A very sobering truth. Unbidden as it was, it still sowed the seed of sadness in Obi-Wan’s heart. 

On one memorable day, he had stormed as Obi-Wan had melted snow and was cleaning his clothes. The Lord of Winter had stood at the doorway, looking at his guest as if Obi-Wan had sprouted a second head. Obi-Wan had just shrugged. “They need cleaning, Gosudar. I’m afraid I was beginning to reek.”

On the next day, there was a whole pile of warm, clean clothes waiting for Obi-Wan as he woke up. Pleased with this small victory, Obi-Wan had smiled happily to himself.

Morozko clearly inhabited the house. He would show every day early morning, would not touch the food and with barely a shake of his head in greeting, would pass through the locked door down the hall, that Obi-Wan had no intention of ever stepping in. But he did not truly live there. No signs of the Master of the house were to be found once he left it. The house felt empty like a hungry beast, whose ribs protrude through the skin. Obi-Wan got used to that as well, but boredom soon settled in and he got restless – his host was hardly anything but gracious. But he never spoke to Obi-Wan for more than a few minutes at a time and usually just to check on him and then would leave. Obi-Wan was left entirely to his own devices and with nothing better to do, he decided to use his imprisonment to his own advantage and do some snooping.

Morozko had not forbidden him from leaving the house, so most of the day Obi-Wan found himself exploring the forest. No beast, nor bird passed his way and his footsteps were the only thing breaking the beauty of the untouched snow. Even so, Obi-Wan was enchanted by the serenity of the place. He would find a place that called to him – under a pine tree with a splintered bark, or on top of a hill he could overlook the forest from. There was a springly creek singing near the house that quickly turned out to be Obi-Wan’s favourite spot – and he would bask in the silence and tranquillity that had settled over this land. He would never admit it to his host but he liked his prison more and more with every passing day.

He found himself near the water once again as it bustled its way through when another sound – an unfamiliar one broke through the peace. Curious but slightly apprehensive, Obi-Wan followed it back to the house, wondering if another creature lived there as well, for the sound sounded a lot like…

He went around the back of the little house and nearly gasped in shock.

There in the cold morning was Morozko himself as he chopped woods like a common peasant.

Gone was the heavy coat, or the always impeccable tunics underneath. The Master of Winter had rolled the sleeves of his crisp white shirt and was swinging a heavy axe like it was nothing. He swung again as Obi-Wan neared.

And missed the piece of wood. Obi-Wan winced as the piece fell from the chopping block on the ground. Morozko just sighed and bent to pick it up. If he wasn’t a mythical powerful spirit, Obi-Wan might say he even startled as his guest neared him and closed his hands over Morozko own where he held the axe.

They were warm.

Obi-Wan, too, startled. So certain he would feel the cold of winter on the other’s skin, he shivered from the warmth, but determined, slid Morozko’s large hand up the handle of the axe right up to the head and the other to the end. The Lord let him with an amused look in his eyes. “Search for already existing cracks in the wood. It’ll be easier to split it there.” Obi-Wan said, glad his voice did not shake.

Obi-Wan expected Morozko to dig in his heels like a mule and refuse just for the sake of it – the way his people, people he had sworn to protect, would scorn at him, but Morozko just nodded and as his guest stepped back, swung again and with a mighty crack – split the piece in two. “Why does the son of a boyar know this?”

“Why does the Lord of Winter do this?” Obi-Wan shot back.

Morozko took another log and placed it as Obi-Wan bent and picked the pieces of the last one, deciding to restore some order to the pile Morozko had been amassing. 

They worked in silence for a while and just as Obi-Wan thought he would not be getting an answer, Morozko spoke.

“You need the wood.” Obi-Wan stopped picking out the splinters from his fingers and turned to his companion. Morozko looked thoughtful for a moment, resting the axe on the ground. “And I enjoy it, it is simple work.” He finally nodded to himself and kept on going.

Obi-Wan shrugged it off feeling warmth crawl through his chest, even though he was certain he had left the ember back at the house.

  


He had it all planned out. Knew the exact time to strike, he armed himself with patience and let the quiet of the house engulf him. The crackling of the fire tempered his anxiousness as much as the quiet of the winter sharpened it. He calmed his breathing, slowing his galloping heart. It was almost time. He heard the heavy footsteps and not a moment later the front door of the little wooden house opened.

“Do you ever eat, Gosudar?” Obi-Wan asked nonchalantly as Morozko deposited his boots by the door. He was glad that the Lord couldn’t hear the way his heart was racing. But he had to do this.

He had lost the days in number and was starting to feel the heaviness of the snow on the roof and the confines of the room. The light of the fire did not warm him anymore. So Obi-Wan had thought a little bit of company might.

Morozko turned to him. Obi-Wan was sitting on the chair he had that first day and had clearly prepared two plates laden with meats and cheese. The bread was as warm as if just out of the oven and Obi-Wan was boldly pouring two cups of wine. He heard the steps come closer.

“Not if I can help it. I do not require sustenance as mortals do.”

Obi-Wan’s hope plummeted, but the Lord of Winter did not leave, instead he stopped by the table.

“Please,” Obi-Wan did not dare look up.

There was a beat of silence.“It shouldn’t go to waste,” Morozko sighed and sat slowly down. Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief and passed the cup to him. Their hands brushed and for the second time, Obi-Wan marveled at how warm – how human the other felt. It helped relax him.

They ate in silence for a while, but it was not to be enjoyed for long as Obi-Wan broke the stillness.

“Where does this food come from?” Slipped out of his tongue unbidden and he cursed his tendency to ask questions for which his mother had often chastised him as a child. In the village he rarely slipped as the stiff courtesy and the hostile nature of his people had shut his mouth quickly. Yet, here, relaxed by the sweet wine and the deep blue of the other’s eyes his tongue had loosened. He also would not admit it but he craved a conversation. Any conversation really.

“People leave it as an offering,” Morozko answered and Obi-Wan startled. 

“Does this mean we have offended you then, Gosudar?” He looked down at his meal, a horrible feeling nestling in his stomach. “We didn't know better.”

“Peace,” Morozko raised his hand to still the apology. “Different lands offer me different things, some go too far even.”

Obi-Wan met his host’s eyes and saw shame painfully lodged in there, like a splinter tearing through the skin. He didn't want the melancholy to drown his only conversation partner so he said in a chipper tone, grasping at the first thing he could. “Other lands, Gosudar? Please, share with me if you will, for my imagination is poor and my curiosity hungry.” And it wasn't a lie either. He craved this expansion of his world, confined as he was to the village, the forest, and that one distant travel to the capital, where his father had introduced him to the knyaz.

Something else sparked in those blue eyes and Morozko began weaving tales of exotic places and distant people. Obi-Wan found himself easily enchanted as he sat there listening. Time slipped like melting snow and the sun began to shrink, clawing its last rays through the room. Morozko noticed it and stood up from the table bursting the moment like a bubble. “I must go,” he said and at least to Obi-Wan he sounded apologetic, but maybe with the dying of the light, the night was playing tricks on him as it sharpened the edges of the world. 

"Thank you for indulging me, Gosudar," Obi-Wan bowed lightly as the Master of Winter turned to go.

"Unnecessary," he stopped by the door. "I should thank you, this food often sits untouched. It's for guests, but they do not come and the forest is... rather devoid of life," his smile was bitter and so very sad it stayed with Obi-Wan, uncomfortably close to his heart. From that moment on though, Morozko dined with him every night of his stay.

  


Obi-Wan couldn't believe it was a bird's song that woke him, thinking it a hallucination of his tired mind, so used to the utter silence of the snowy realm. Having nothing better to do though, he followed the sound, absolutely convinced he had lost his marbles but amused by it nevertheless. Outside he found Morozko - a common sight in the mornings - dressed in his heavy winter coat. The collar of it was a luxuriously soft pelt that framed his long torso. Obi-Wan found it made him look more like a dashing noble than a fairytale villain and had to wonder, where did that thought come from. Unexpected, just like the bird perched on the branches vying themselves towards the house.

Obi-Wan was so stunned, he forgot to breathe for a second, scared he was going to spook the little spark of life in this frozen kingdom.

Morozko was just as entranced by the little bird - a soft look full of longing melting the ice in his stare. He hadn't even sensed his guest nearby.

Slowly, the king of Winter outstretched his hand towards the little disturber of the peace. There was restrained desperation in the movement. The bird turned its head curiously and both Morozko and Obi-Wan held their breath as it scrutinized them. It jumped twice getting closer, chirped loudly, and flew away.

Morozko lowered his hand and Obi-Wan felt as if a great loss had occurred.

"How?" Obi-Wan asked simply, regret gripping his heart and squeezing.

"It followed your warmth," Morozko said simply and with that turned and left, trying to hide his disappointment.

Something in the defeated look, the slump of the broad shoulders, and the desperate hope that had morphed to sorrow in those eyes, kept Obi-Wan through the night and helped him devise a plan.

Patient as a saint, Obi-Wan stole from his host's table and spilled crumbs, fruits, and nuts on the ground behind the house. A day passed, and then two. As a hunter with a prey he avidly waited for his trap to spring and was rewarded several mornings later as the song returned. He kept his efforts going until the bird got used to his presence, it didn't get scared of him as it had with Morozko and Obi-Wan's sadness for the lone Master of this domain felt like it would bubble out and spill over as if he was a cracked vessel. 

"Come," he would beckon the bird sweetly with an open palm filled with treats. He had stopped spilling them on the ground, trying to lure the bird to him. Finally, one day it perched on his hand, its feathers tickling his fingers. It began to devour the food slowly, completely ignoring Obi-Wan that wanted to laugh with joy at his victory. 

Soon enough the bird would come to him even without the promise of food as long as he outstretched his arm. It was marvelous.

"Gosudar, if you please," Obi-Wan gathered the courage one morning and beckoned the other to follow him. Morozko had looked at him and his guest could swear he saw gentle amusement crinkle in the corner of his eyes. 

His host had relaxed gradually and opened up more to him, their dinners - a pleasant ending to each day as they shared lives and tales between them. Obi-Wan realised he had never looked forward to anything more than those quiet, peaceful talks he led with the Lord of Winter.

Quiet as a mouse, Obi-Wan led Morozko outside. The day was crisp and beautiful, all sharp in its cold glory like a sketch in a book. Obi-Wan nervously tore his piece of bread, hoping this would work.

Relief crashed through him, as he heard his little friend's greeting, that had him smile and Morozko took in a stuttering breath.

The bird showed itself from the crooked branches, chittering away at its supplier. Obi-Wan didn't hesitate and outstretched his arm as usual.

The bird was reluctant this time around and Obi-Wan felt worry swirl in his chest. The little feathery menace, however, valued food more than it feared the cold, it seemed and swooped in his hand. Obi-Wan smiled widely and with his other hand found that of his host, tugging it. Morozko hesitated. Obi-Wan tusked and bumped his back in the other's chest as he tried to retreat. Raising his host's arm slowly to the bird and gently coaxing it in the awaiting warm palm as he transferred the crumbs in there as well.

For a second the bird froze. It stretched its wings as everything in the whole world stopped existing, its beady eyes focusing on Morozko, but then as it was - a little bit ruffled, it folded its wings again and turned its attention back on its meal.

Morozko's other hand came to grip Obi-Wan's shoulder as his surprised breath tickled his guest's hair. Obi-Wan realised that he was caged in the Winter Lord's arms, his heart making a funny flip in his chest, but he dismissed it as joy was spreading to the tips of his toes.

They stood there silent, still as the bird ate and once it finished it chirped loudly, jumped a bit in the large hand of its keeper, and flew to hide in the forest.

Obi-Wan turned elated in Morozko's arms, opening his mouth to admit victory as the gentleness inscribed on the other's face floored him. The soft look in those startling eyes as they trailed the bird, the beginning of a smile tugging at the lips, the crow's feet - more pronounced. Obi-Wan felt heat spread through him like a fiery arrow, making him blush and sweat in his coat. The warmth he felt in the arms of the Winter Lord forcing his breath to mist in the air as it left his empty lungs.

Obi-Wan looked down unable to swallow the fear and joy fighting in his heart.

A large finger tipped his chin up. And suddenly they were very close. Morozko's thumb finding the mole underneath Obi-Wan's eye and stroking it. The touch searing his skin.

"Thank you," his host smiled slowly. Those words staying with Obi-Wan as he nodded his head and turned to go, telling himself he was not running. But later, even in his sleep, he could not escape the hold they had on him.

The Lord of Winter found a friend and Obi-Wan could keep on lying to himself that it was the other one's joy that warmed his chilled fingertips like a sip of strong ale and not the piercing looks Morozko threw his way. 

This life was quiet and peaceful, completely frozen like the lake in the forest, but beneath its surface something swirled lazily, waiting for the ice to crack.

  


"There are others that recognize my kind," Morozko had assured him one night, surprising Obi-Wan.

"Gosudar?"

"You are not as alone as you might think," Morozko continued, his words gentle across the light of the candle in the middle of the table, that threw shadows over his face and hid it. "Many I've encountered go mad with it. You shouldn't let it consume you." 

Obi-Wan smiled into his dinner. The Winter Lord was trying to help him, and indeed the conformation that there were others like him and he was not like the purely whitened foal, birthed in the village several years back - a pitiful thing with red eyes that could not muster the strength to look at the sun and never stood up. Its mother had abandoned it and it's spark had fizzled not long after. Something in Obi-Wan settled, slotted into place like the right key to a long-forgotten door.

"Thank you, Gosudar. I won't forget it." 

"Be safe," Morozko had scowled at him, his expression warring with the softness of his words.

"I do not fear your kind, Gosudar." 

Morozko put down his fork and knife, allowing for the silence to reign for a few minutes. “Why did you come here?”

“Because I was the one who could follow the path, I wanted to save-“

Morozko shook his head slowly. “Look inside, you didn’t need to bargain with the God of Winter to help them.”

Obi-Wan knew. But it stung even now. Like falling in the nettle’s patch as a child.

Like Siva’s words had.

“You wanted me to free you from this responsibility.”

It wasn’t a question.

“What did you think I was going to do? Was it the river or the embrace of night that stole your last breath in your fantasy?” Morozko was not even angry at him. He sounded sad like the wind had as it carried the bird away. That snapped Obi-Wan out of his reverie.

“I thought it best.” He tried.

“You thought it easy.” He lost.

Shame burned in him and it was not the warmth he felt when Morozko smiled at him, no, it was sharp and painful – full of smoke that suffocated him. It was so easy to hide in it and get lost in the smoky dimness. _Run, run to the forest, and away._ A voice in his head whispered to him.

But Morozko had held his hand for that bird patiently and was now waiting for him. 

And he wanted to follow.

“I do not fear your kind, Gosudar.” Obi-Wan took a deep breath and let the truth he had known since he was a child finally form on his lips. "But I do fear mine."

Morozko sighed, his breath stirring the flame of the candle in gentle relief. Then he stood up suddenly, pushing his chair away, as it scraped the planks with an unpleasant screech. “Will you come with me?” He asked.

Obi-Wan nodded, trusting his host implicitly, even if the painful admission still clogged his mind.

Morozko moved down the hallway, Obi-Wan quietly following behind. They neared the door to the room Obi-Wan suspected was the Lord of Winter’s sleeping chambers. They stopped in front of it and the human could, for the first time, take a good look at it. Like all the rest, it was carved with vines stretching from the ground up to the ceiling, twining merrily in a complicated pattern.

Obi-Wan’s breath stuttered in his chest as Morozko plucked a key from a big old metal ring and unlocked the door in two smooth twists of his wrist.

He entered and held the door open in a clear invitation.

Obi-Wan hesitated, what he expected – he didn’t know, but surely he couldn’t barge in. Nothing in there should be seen by mortals, he reasoned with himself.

“I made you force those secrets out, it is only right to bare myself in front of you,” Morozko read his mind and with a twitch of his fingers, beckoned his guest once more. “Come.”

The room was small and bare, there were a bed and a chair. And pots, so many empty pots – some discarded on top of one another on old wooden shelves. Some lined the window sill filled with dirt. A human room, not a lair of a beast. 

Obi-Wan hadn’t known his heart could crack, it almost felt as if he could hear it in the deafening silence of the little room.

“Qui-Gon,” Morozko quietly said.

“Gosudar?” Obi-Wan turned his attention away from the pots, where flowers had never sprouted.

“I had a name once,” Morozko closed the distance between them, looming over his guest, but Obi-Wan held his breath in trepidation. This thing between them - growing, blooming in the empty room, warming them in place where the sun rays never did. “I was too a human, but all I remember is my name - Qui-Gon.”

_This must be love_ , Obi-Wan thought as the knowledge of the one possession the Lord of Winter had managed to keep alive sank into his soul.

Qui-Gon took his face in his large hands and Obi-Wan leaned into the touch.

“Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said in the space between their lips and felt the owner of that name shudder.

Their kiss was slow and tentative but Obi-Wan thought spring must have arrived already as the warmth enveloped him.

What time they had left leaked through their fingers. And as the snow melted and the days grew so did Obi-Wan’s happiness. He’d found something immeasurable and precious, deep as the sea inside of himself and it threatened to burst out of his chest most of the time as it felt he could not contain it.

Qui-Gon changed, they changed one another. With every tentative touch that morphed into a hungry grasp and every kiss light as the feather of a bird that could not hold on to their desire, with every tumble in the bed, stealing one another’s breath -- everything became clearer, more real and so much more important. Obi-Wan finally found what he had been looking for when he had entered the forest lost in his cold thoughts, no, even before – for as long as he remembered.

But spring came. He knew it had. On the day the softer winds of the south touched the kingdom of his beloved, Obi-Wan knew his stay had to come to an end. Qui-Gon did not say anything. He was waiting it seemed. Putting the decision entirely in Obi-Wan’s hands.

So Obi-Wan wandered further into the forest than he had ever been before and walked for hours upon hours until his feet felt heavy and the trek through the snow – an impossibility. He fell into the snow, sinking into the white mass as the cold jolted through him, clearing his mind. And so he stood, laying amongst the trees, staring into the grey sky. It never changed in here, always the soft grey and the everlasting silence.

Obi-Wan realised he missed the blue.

“Did it help?” Qui-Gon asked him as he opened the door, the smell of fresh bread and burning wood enveloping him. Obi-Wan took off his heavy boots and turned his attention towards the other inhabitant of the little house. Qui-Gon had taken off his outer layers and had rolled his sleeves as he stoked the flames a little higher because he knew Obi-Wan got cold.

Obi-Wan’s heart swelled, beating like that of a sparrow caught in the palm of a man – fast and louder than the silence of his mind. But it wasn’t fear that led the rhythm.

He spread his arms wide. “Warm me, my Lord,” he stood tasting the challenge on his lips as Qui-Gon crossed the room in two long strides and had him in his arms.

Later, as they laid in the bed, entwined, Qui-Gon raised himself on his arm to look at Obi-Wan, and gently, with one finger, traced a path from his eye to his lips. “You are leaving, are you not?”

Obi-Wan caught the hand and kissed the fingers. “I am not running anymore, I think I want to fight for you, but I cannot do it here. I have my own spirits in the night it seems and I need to confront them.”

At his words, Qui-Gon hid his face in the crook of Obi-Wan’s throat and his mouth met flesh. Obi-Wan sighed, tipping his head to give him more access. “You do not want me to go?”

Qui-Gon stopped kissing him but remained hidden from him and Obi-Wan could not read his face. Panic gripped him for a second that he had messed this up.

Still, Qui-Gon’s voice was clear as the water from the creek. “I cannot be selfish with your life,” he said, a wistful sadness sewn into it like a golden thread.

Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around him and for a while they stood like that, listening to the dying fire.

  


The walk through the forest was silent. Only the crunching of the snow broke the emptiness the way their feet were marring the untouched snow. The wind moved and carried with it a song of life once again. Obi-Wan flinched, unused to the sound of it.

Qui-Gon stopped and turned to him. His eyes were clear, his hands – steady as he cupped Obi-Wan’s face in them. “I should not follow from here,” he softly breathed in the space between them.

Obi-Wan kissed him hungrily and the proud Lord of Winter surrendered to him. “I must do this,” Obi-Wan said, regret and pain fresh on his skin like the snowflakes in the wind. He wanted to beg to Qui-Gon to wait for him, he feared he would be forgotten as the snow melted. It weighed him down and the pain of it seared through the love. _Wait for me, please I will find the way back._ He tried to say all of it with one last kiss.

But then it was time to go. He couldn’t look at Qui-Gon so he resolutely stared at his boots but the Lord tipped his chin up and their eyes met. Qui-Gon smiled at him gently. “Listen to the wind,” he said. Something in Obi-Wan loosened and he took a deep gulp of the cold frigid air.

They would be alright.

Qui-Gon released him and with one last look, Obi-Wan turned to go. Three steps and a fourth, he managed this much, he could do the rest. Back to his village where his fight would begin. Obi-Wan shoved his hands in his pockets another fear vying for his attention. How would they react to him being alive? Did his sister think of him well?

Instinctively his hand found the warmth and his fingers wrapped around it.

“Qui-Gon!” Obi-Wan turned and quickly retraced his steps back where the Lord of Winter had stopped and waited for him.

Obi-Wan pushed the ember at him, as Qui-Gon took it in his big hand and curiously closed his fingers around it.

“I’ll be back, I never said it but I’ll be back, so keep it safe for me, please.” The words tripped themselves out of his mouth and Qui-Gon smiled once more. He nodded and finally Obi-Wan could look straight ahead. 

  


It was in the small things that he found that warmth again. In the tears of his sister, as he returned, it was in the cries of his nephew as Padme held him for the first time in the bathhouse. It was in the storage houses filled to the brim with the harvest and in the laughter of his people as they danced in spring. It was in the house he returned to and lived in as his father before him.

It was also in the song of the nameless rusalka that carried through the forest and in the merry crackling of the fire where the domovoy lived.

But it was in the cold breeze on a summer’s morning. People marveled at the unusual commodity as it lifted the weight of the heat off of their shoulders. The wind of house Kenobi they called it as it twirled around the grand house like a lost dog without an owner.

It was the bird that would sing perched on his window sill and it sounded a lot like a love confession. The bird would look at him for a while and then fly north as Obi-Wan bid it to find its Master and sing to him the same.

Most of all, against all reason, his warmth was in the first touch of winter as the grass shivered underneath the layer of frost. Obi-Wan would leave his house then, on that first night, and wait at the doorway for his guest.

A little late, or a little early – never just in time. From the embrace of the growing night, a lone figure emerged. To some – an ill omen and to many a forgotten tale of warnings. But to one – a human figure, slightly bent from the long journey, dressed in a rich fur coat, heavy from the snow of a thousand miles.

Obi-Wan’s heart always skipped at the sight and relieved he would lean on his home and smile gently at his guest.

“Welcome home,” he would say the happiness creeping in his voice.

The figure would stop and his beloved’s eyes would pierce his.

“Welcome home, Qui-Gon.”

  
  



End file.
